A White Lie
by Mesataki
Summary: Good liars have a secret: the more you keep it to the truth, the more likely it'll be believed. Bianca makes a mistake, and White is there to pick up the pieces. WhitexBianca or ShiroShipping - however you want to call it.


Perhaps the one thing that she missed most was spending time with her friends. There used to be endless summers where she did nothing but hang out with Bianca, Cheren, and Black. However, she missed the times with Bianca the most. Unlike Cheren or Black who were normally conservative and a stickler for rules (the former more so), Bianca liked to have fun in life. She liked to explore every nook and cranny that the world had to offer her.

Many people wrote the blonde off as ditzy if not somewhat dull-witted, but White knew this was not the case. Bianca was just simply too trusting. She was naïve and gullible, but she, White, did not share her friend's idyllic view on the world. She could see underlying motives others had and knew that was what was said never truly represented what was meant. For her, she could read Bianca like a book – the girl wore her thoughts and feelings on her sleeve.

On this particular day, the Battle Channel marathon was on. They were all upstairs, cheering on the various contestants with boisterous shouts and whoops. Or at least, only Bianca was cheering and whooping. The two guys in the room were engrossed, their eyes not only enjoying the scene in front of them but mentally digesting the ingenious tactics used. White was less inclined to be as excited. She found she could faintly hear the pokemon's cries of pain, and the sound of it disturbed her somewhat.

But then, Bianca switched from cheering to being needy. "I'm thirsty."

"Then go get some water," Black replied quickly, eyes glued to the screen.

"My mouth is a bit dry too… Here, I'll go with you," White offered.

The blonde's eyes shone with happiness. Very easy to please. "Thanks a bunch!"

Her smile was infectious. "No problem."

They went down the stairs together, and clumsy Bianca nearly fell, but White was quick enough to grab hold of her arm. Thus, another of many disasters was averted.

"Ah, thanks," she said a little abashedly after regaining her footing.

White gave a small nod. "Just be careful next time. Don't want anything to happen to that pretty little head of yours," she teased.

"Right. Say – where's your mom?" Bianca asked. The kitchen table's usual occupant was absent who she could've sworn was just here.

"Grocery shopping."

"Oh. Well… why don't you sit down and I'll go get a glass of water?"

White opened her mouth to answer but found that she could say little to stop Bianca from rushing into the kitchen. The blond reached up into the cabinet and plucked out two clean glasses, in the process losing her grip on one of them. Bianca seemed to surge forward in an attempt to catch it, but her fingers only grazed the rim before it completely tumbled from her grasp where it shattered on the floor. She seemed to pause there, as in disbelief she had just dropped it. White hurried over.

"Are you okay?" the brunette asked quickly.

"I'm so sorry – I don't know how I dropped it like that! You're not angry are you?" There was so much pleading in her green eyes that White was taken back for a moment. Her hesitance in coming up with an answer seemed to make itself into one for Bianca. "You're angry, aren't you," she repeated quietly.

"Uh, no, no," White said, finding her tongue. "I was more worried if you were hurt, actually." That was a bit of a lie; she was actually quite alarmed with how the usual happy-go-lucky Bianca was reacting to a simple accident.

"Oh, erm… Well I should clean up anyway." Her hands began for the glass shards, but White stopped her short by grabbing her wrist.

"Knowing you, you'll probably end up cutting yourself," she said a little jokingly. "Just let me handle it – and the other glass is fine right? Pour me a drink?"

A shade of red sneaked onto the blonde's face. "I can do it…" she murmured.

White stared at her for a moment – the other refusing to meet her eyes. "Is there something up?" she tried cautiously.

The small probe seemed to make her even more flustered, and she hastily pulled her hat down as if trying to cover her face. "No – nothing's wrong!"

That statement had confirmed just the opposite. "Bianca. I've been your friend for the past… fourteen to fifteen years. If you have something to say… then say it. I'm all ears."

She seemed to consider this, silently meeting her eyes for just a moment. "I… I guess," she said. "Well… It's… How do I…?" Frustration colored my face, and she tried to hide herself under her hat again. "OhgoshI'msoembarassed."

"Calm down. Take deep breaths, think carefully about what you're trying to tell me," she gently coaxed.

Bianca complied, trying her best to loosen up. "Um… I think I'm in love."

White's breath hitched. Maybe she should just let it be – Bianca liked someone and as her friend, she shouldn't be prying. Yet she was curious. "I'm sure they like you back."

"Really?" There seemed to be so much hope in that one word that she couldn't help but keep talking.

"Yeah – you are rather cute," she continued, ruffling the other girl's hat a bit. "And you're a sweet girl. Whoever you like is a pretty much guaranteed to like you back."

Bianca flushed a dark red again. Perhaps she had laid it too thickly on the compliments, White mused. "O-oh really?" she sheepishly repeated. "And er… how do you know?"

"I just know," she replied, without thinking.

The blonde seemed to lean in closely. White unconsciously moved back a little. "Are you positively sure?"

It was her turn to feel flustered. "Ah, why not ask them yourself?"

She seemed to retreat a little. "I think… I think I will. Thanks."

White gave a small nod partially out of relief. "Glad to help, Bia-"

Quicker than the brunette could react, Bianca had closed the distance between them. For a moment, it was as if a feather had brushed her lips – it was quick but soft, but she then remembered just who it was and panicked, pulling back.

"That person you like," White began, a strange feeling stirring in her stomach, "is…" Was this even possible? She hadn't realized Bianca was for the 'other team!'

The sudden movement had the effect of a slap on Bianca. Her eyes were averted to the floor, and shame faced, she tried to pull the edge of her hat down so that it covered her eyes. "But I thought…" she seemed to whimper.

"I didn't think you meant me!" she said, her voice edged from shock.

That was the straw that broke the numel's back. "I'm sorry!" she half-shrieked, half-sobbed.

She could barely get the words, "Wait!" out of her mouth before the other girl was gone. Left in brief silence, White seethed in self-resentment. There were better ways to handle that sort of confession, and she had chosen the worst possible reaction short of physically assaulting her.

"What's going on?" Cheren was walking down the stairs, Black in tow. "Where's Bianca?"

"She…" White debated for a moment of what to tell them. "She had to go home."

"Why?" Black inquired. He was leaning on the stair rail, eying the broken glass on the floor.

"An ache," she answered.

Both of them held a guarded expression. White knew that they didn't believe her, but what mattered was that they didn't press her any further. It was already difficult now – she wouldn't know how they would factor in such a personal matter.

"I'll go see her after I clean this up," she told them. She'd have to be careful picking up the shards – they could leave some nasty cuts if she let them.

* * *

><p>White didn't even bother to go to her house. Experience showed that Bianca had a strong preference to go to the woods around the town when she was sad, angry, or both. Knowing her, she was probably bawling her eyes out. As her friend, that brought White no small measure of guilt. There was an overwhelming feeling of shame that stirred within her, and even then, it was probably only a fraction of what Bianca had felt.<p>

Even if she did find her – what could she say? That she wasn't like that and they could just be friends? As if it was that easy. No – White was damn sure that she was straight, and to prove it to herself, she recalled having a crush on Cheren for a month. Just how long had Bianca been interested in her? She racked her memory for any signs – any clues. Now that she reexamined things, she did remember the blonde slowly becoming more guarded – jumpy like she had a secret on her mind.

She had not asked about it – respecting her friend's privacy. Of course, Bianca seemed glad not to have to explain to herself but perhaps she was too glad? And what about those times where Bianca had unfailingly offered to help her – even if she was preoccupied herself? The girl was selfless and a bit too altruistic for her own good. She had friends like Black, Cheren, and White to keep her grounded, but could their influence truly stop her from being exploited? There were so many people in the world, and a good bit of those were bad, to say the least.

White found herself intensely worried about her friend. She asked herself again, what should she say? What if she said she reciprocated her feelings? Would it be bad to say that, not mean it, and make Bianca infinitely happy? Or would the pressure of holding a guise wear out on them both and leave their once healthy friendship decrepit and bitter from deceit? Would it crush her to say the outright truth? She pondered about this.

Bianca was always happy person – the type who would try to hide their tears behind wide smiles and still cry anyway. Given how bad her reaction was to White's rejection, it might not be a wise idea to just tell her that she didn't like her back. Best to lie, then, however morally wrong it was. It held the most favorable outcome of the situation, and at a later date, she could break the 'relationship' once Bianca was emotionally stable enough to accept it. Until then, she'd just have to deal with being kissed by another girl.

After trekking through the wilderness for a good thirty minutes, White finally found Bianca hugging her knees on top of a smooth rock situated near a babbling stream. Even from this distance, she was able to make out a forlorn look on the other girl's expression. Approaching slowly, she mentally went over the script in her head before finally calling out to her.

"We need to talk."

Bianca went rigid and seemed to shrink even further. "What about?" she asked, her voice shaking. White guessed that the girl knew she would eventually go looking for her.

"About your feelings," she answered, climbing up next to her. "Like how long have you been…?"

She paused – of course she would. "I've liked you since grade school," she began, "I think, ever since you bought me ice cream that one day when I didn't have any money."

The memory of such of an event was hazy and distant. For Bianca to remember it at all, it must've left a strong impression. White nodded slowly. "Go on."

"I started to really notice you around… a year ago, I think?" She hesitated again, glancing over to see White's expectant, but patient, blue eyes. "I thought you were really beautiful and nice and kind," she listed, not picking up on her redundancy. "You shared ice cream with me, remember?"

There had been only enough money to buy one cone, and so they had shared a single one together. "Yeah," she replied with a curt nod.

"It just made me think back to grade school – and I thought, 'hey, this isn't the first time she's done this,' and I started to think, and think, and think… Then I just fell in love," she admitted. "I… understand if you're not like that. That was just me being mistaken. It won't happen again." Her words said the opposite – the downcast expression told White everything she needed to know.

Remember to stick to the plan. "What if it wasn't a mistake?" she said simply.

"Come again?" Bianca asked, disbelief clear in her voice.

"What if… What if I said I don't mind trying to see how this works?

"I… Is it really an 'if' or do you mean it?" she probed cautiously.

Once bitten, twice shy, White observed. "Tell me – what do you want?"

"I want… _you_…" The word carried a lot of reverence – in many ways, White could mean something akin to a forbidden fruit for Bianca. Inaccessible, but desired nonetheless.

"If that's what you want, then I don't mind," she said smoothly, feeling the guilt mount up again. She pushed it out of her mind. If the slightest hint of insincerity seeped out, then the whole façade would shatter.

"But what about in the kitchen… you were so angry…"

"I was just shocked," she explained. That was the truth at least, and it easily left her tongue. "I really didn't expect you to kiss me like that."

"Oh…" she trailed off a bit, fixing her green eyes to the stream. Bianca was silent for a moment, mentally digesting the sudden change of events. White didn't mind; this was to be expected. When the blonde turned back to face her, White was listening with open ears – a good thing, too. Her next words were barely above a whisper. "Then, does all of this mean we're…?"

White nodded – the movement deliberate to give the illusion of confidence.

"And that kissing is okay and that I can just be with you?" There was a lot of innocence and hope shining in her eyes – and White tried her best not to look too deeply into them.

She nodded again, wearing a thin smile. "Why not?"

Bianca threw her arms around her – the movement was unexpected and sudden. White had almost fallen off, but Bianca had her in an iron grip, head buried into her shoulder. White was stunned by abruptness of the gesture, and for a moment, she contemplated pulling herself away. A fresh sob from the blonde immediately cleared such notions from her mind.

"I thought I ruined our friendship with what I did," Bianca moaned through cloth and tears.

A small, unseen grimace formed on the brunette's face. Bianca had taken the rejection harder than she'd thought – and it only strengthened White's conviction to see this whole thing through. She gently wrapped her arm around her friend. "It's okay. I'm here for you," she softly soothed, resting her chin on the other's shoulder. In the summer setting, White could just vaguely smell the receding scent of spring.

They remained in each other's arms for a while, the forest utterly quiet save for the gentle gurgle of the creek. White had a wistful expression; she had always been an open shoulder for Bianca, and this wasn't the first time they had done this. It had always felt like the right thing to do; hold Bianca tightly and tell her everything was going to be alright. Could those moments have aroused the blonde's feelings for her, she wondered? The moment of vulnerability and dependence did so much to build a strong attachment.

And now White wondered – did she enjoy exercising this sort of control over Bianca? She held the girl's heartstrings in her hand – whatever way she pulled, Bianca would have to follow. With a single word, she could send her spiraling into depression – but with a different phrase, she could bring her to a euphoric peak. The thoughts she had of viewing her friend so callously sickened her; her grip tightened. Bianca was a good person and deserved to be happy in life.

And White was the only person who could give that to her.

"It's almost too good to be true."

The statement had alarm bells ringing in her head. Had Bianca picked up on her ploy?

The blonde pulled away from White to look her in the eyes, and as they say, the eyes were the window to the soul. "Do you really like me the way I like you?"

This was the point of no return where she would either withdraw and leave Bianca heartbroken or lie to herself and her friend. But White was resolute in her actions. This was a lie to protect her, and she was not so unsure that she would turn back so close to the end. Carefully, she leaned in closely and gently took Bianca's lips with hers.

Her lips were soft and warm, she found. There was a strange sensation that came with kissing a person of the same gender, and it was not at all unpleasant. It almost felt natural, even, and clouds of doubt began hazing her mind. Bianca pressed forward, as if to test if White would immediately end it like she did before. She didn't, and it was eventually Bianca who was the one who pulled away. Her face was flushed red – White suspected that had been her first real kiss. That too, added to her guilt.

"Does that answer your question?" the brunette asked, resting her hands on the other's hips.

"… Yes."

The answer was so meek that it begged for reassurance. "I love you," she said with a light laugh before realizing the words had left her mind.

Bianca embraced her again. "Thanks," White thought she heard.

The slip of tongue forced her to rethink this. Did she really find being with another girl… so wrong? She had to admit, she had meant every word she had said in the kitchen. She did think Bianca was cute and a sweet girl. The only factor that prevented her from feeling any attraction was her own ideas on what defined love – the capital rule being that the party involved had to be opposite genders. But things change, and the more she played her part in the lie, the more the line between reality and falsehood blurred.

White slowly closed her eyes, letting herself relax in the Bianca's warm arms.

At that moment, it stopped becoming a white lie.

* * *

><p>[AN]: I've never really written romance before, and this was a new step forward for me. I don't know why I chose this pairing, but it's been on my mind for a while. I wrote it originally to temporarily distract myself, but it seems it eventually finished itself.

I had to reread it a few times and make tweaks where I saw necessary, but I think this was a good piece overall – worthy of a little pride on my part. It makes me want to write in the ShiroShipping-ness into my current project, but I'll prolly leave it alone – pairing-less.

There might be future work put into this depending on how inspired I am to write, but knowing how often my muse likes to abandon me, I suspect it won't be soon.


End file.
